


Tears of a Clown

by hiddlemethis24 (myliege_theelvenking)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Loki's inner monologue, POV First Person, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 14:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1269862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myliege_theelvenking/pseuds/hiddlemethis24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gone is the foolish, cocksure youth I knew just a few years ago. Instead Thor stands in front of me in a most kingly manner and I feel a pang of jealousy at that thought. Of course he would look the part of a king. He is not the secret Jotun prince, dark and reviled, earning attention only through tricks and manipulation. The golden son, always destined for the throne even if we had both been fed the lie that would rule. I should have known it could not be possible for both of us to have the throne. Yet somehow I had convinced myself that perhaps it was possible, even if Thor was clearly favored over me. I am so good at lying I even deceive myself."</p><p>Loki seems composed, but there is so much more that goes on underneath all those masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears of a Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for Thor: The Dark World, so if you haven't watched it and wish to remain unspoiled, please read no further. Dialogue is taken straight from the movies, with one exception that is layered over with the soundtrack.
> 
> Title is taken from Smokey Robinson's "Tears of a Clown".

In the new silence of the cells, now rid of the uncouth warriors that had inhabited it just two days past, my eyes scanned the pages of a book my mother had sent me. For all that I projected indifference, even scorn, at the gesture, it was something that did not go without appreciation. Leave it to her to care enough to keep my mind occupied. Without the exercise that the reading gave my brain, it would grow weak and eventually fester, leaving me no better than my witless "brother". He was no true brother of mine despite the thousands of years we'd spent together, playing, training, and eventually fighting side by side. No, not side by side, because that inferred that we'd ever been treated as equals. Sif, the Warriors Three, and Odin himself had failed to take heed of my abilities, my intelligence.  
  
Only Frigga had ever seen my potential and acknowledged what I had become. I owed much of my skill to her, who had taught me the first lessons in seidhr. She had been my tutor for many years, encouraging me to expand my abilities beyond what even she could teach me, until I exceeded her powers and became the most powerful sorcerer in Asgard. I've saved the golden city time and time again and provided Odin with his magical steed, yet only Frigga has learned to take my mischief for what it was: just mischief, not true malice. Not until...I suppress a shudder of revulsion and rage. I am not Aesir. I do not even want to speak my true race, not even in the vaulted safety of my mind. It doesn't much matter what I am, if not Aesir, if not Vanir. I would accept an Elvish heritage even, rejoice in it, but this...this I cannot easily welcome into my identity. It explained so much of the favoritism Thor had received over me, little more than a political prisoner, a pawn in another of Odin's great schemes. I had to give the king some credit; his mind was nearly as adept at bending others to his will as mine.  
  
I wasn't even reading the pages, not truly, my eyes scanning the words but my mind so preoccupied by the constant inner dialogue that none were processed. Alone in this cell, my mind was allowed to run rampant, but this was truly no different from the moment I'd discovered who I truly was. From that point on I had been alone, though there had been multitudes of people surrounding me. Multitudes of people ignoring my worth, as always. But Odin's confession had finally set me apart and gave truth to the notion that I'd had for some time: that I was not one of them.  
  
There was a voice outside my cell belonging to a soldier I had not even seen approach. I blinked once, the only outward sign of my surprise to suddenly find someone else in my company. I turned my face towards the guard, a calm, but expectant look on my face. Whatever he had to say, he had better do so quickly. I did not welcome my thoughts (and my neglected reading) being interrupted. Yet at the same time I warred with my impatience, my keen eyes picked up the signs of nervousness in the guard, the body always speaking louder than the words themselves.  
  
"My Lord Loki," he began, a hesitancy in his voice that could have been fear. I did so relish that these subjects of Asgard feared me, finally recognizing what I was capable of. It was exactly that lack of attention before that had driven my mischief to become what it was now, what others might label as "evil". My eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly as I waited for him to continue, my mind racing as I saw the tension in his posture, the subtle twitch of his fingers. It _could_ have been fear, but that didn't feel quite right. There was something else... "Prince Thor--" I suppressed the twisting of my lips into a vile grimace-- "has ordered that you be informed of Lady Frigga's passing. The ceremony took place just last night."  
  
_Lady Frigga's passing._ Everything in my head turned to ice, shooting down my spine and quickly spreading through my chest. Breathing became difficult and my chest was already aching. The only sign the guard would see--if any escaped my ironclad control--would be a sudden stillness in my expression, the previous hints of annoyance gone. I felt myself give a short nod, feeling my control begin to slip and needing the man to be gone. I could feel panic blooming in my mind, anger, hatred for myself. She'd been killed in the attack. It was the only thing that made sense. It wasn't a far leap for my mind to make that it had been that dreadful creature who had killed her, and if not him, then one of his cronies. And who had led them there?  
  
My stomach lurched and I swallowed hard against the bile that was in my throat. I knew where that staircase led, the very staircase I had directed them. But I had never thought, in a staggering lack of forethought, that the army would find Frigga. She should have never been there, should have left and retreated to safety. _Oh, Mother, what have you done?_ I thought plaintively. _What have_ **I** _done?_ I turned away from the cell wall, the soldier already on his way back to his post. I thought of the last conversation we had had. ' _Then am I not your Mother?_ ' I feel my chest clench all over again, just as it had with those poignant words. I suppressed the urge to swallow. ' _You're not,_ ' I had said, choking down the emotions as I always did. This facade I wore, the walls, the vault in which I locked down my true feelings, it was all just as much of a lie as my physical appearance of an Aesir. One lie layered over another, one illusion propagating others.  
  
I can see the tears glimmering in her eyes all over again, shooting into my chest like a dagger. With Odin and Thor, it is easy to exude superiority and condenscion. But Frigga, my mother, my tutor, my nurturer, she was far more perceptive. She would have supported my rise to the throne, had supported my brief stint as King when Odin had been in his long-delayed Odinsleep. ' _Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself._ ' Some of that control crumbles and I had moved towards her to embrace her, only for the illusion--of course it was an illusion, you fool--to shimmer and fade. My jaw tightened with suppressed emotion, a mixture of humiliation and grief. If not for Frigga's magic, I would never see her again. Imprisonment was nothing to me. I would endure until I could find a way to escape, likely manipulating someone to free me as I had always done to escape my bounds Odin placed on me. But in denying me my mother's visits, he had successful managed to contrive a true punishment. I hadn't even been allowed to attend the ceremony, to bid my tear-streaked farewells.  
  
If I had known then that it would be the last time I would see her perhaps the conversation would have played out different. I wonder if Frigga had known then, gifted with foresight, or burdened, depending on how you chose to see it. It is too much for me to bear. I stand, taking a couple steps away from my seat and all of that frustration and sorrow channels itself into a burst of magic. It was a wall that rippled through the cell, radiating from my body and destroying everything within. I am blinded by my rage and unaware of what I'm doing. Somehow I manage to construct the illusion of a cell still in tact for any who might be passing by my cell, but in truth I am rending the furniture of my cell, knocking chairs and tables over and splintering them. Time is no longer something I can mark as my mind breaks over and over again.  
  
_My fault._  
  
Mother is dead and it is _my_ fault. At some point I collapse on the floor, splinters of wood and glass embedded in my feet and drawing blood. It doesn't pour out fast enough. No amount of blood I can shed will redeem me for my part in her death. An anguished scream rips from my throat, my fingers curling into clawed weapons i could have turned upon myself, but I lack the energy. I lack the wherewithall to do anything but scream, then fall against the smudged wall as even that small vestige of strength is sapped from me. _I am so sorry, Mother. Please, forgive me. Come back to me. I have no one else._  
  
I let my illusion deal with the guards, accepting the food they bring and keeping up all appearances. The next day it is Thor who visits my cell and my stomach twists with hatred. "Thor, after all this time now you come to visit me." The usual slick venom spews from my mouth, only able to utter harsh words anymore. Once I loved my brother, even as jealousy began to color our relationship. Now, perhaps the love is still there somewhere as I am not allowed the bliss of forgetfulness, but it is buried beneath self-loathing, bitterness, and defensive hatred. "Why? Have you come to gloat? To mock?"  
  
Thor is surprisingly gruff with me, the same man who had to harness the darker ways to come to Midgard for me, all the while hoping I was not too far gone to be saved. It seems he has grown more intuitive as well, or else I underestimated his intelligence under all that arrogance. "Loki, enough. No more illusions."  
  
Fine. He wanted me to let down my shields, so carefully constructed? He might be sorry he asked. My eyes close briefly and I allow it to fade, revealing the wreckage I have made in my grief. "Now you see me, brother." Dry, sarcastic, yet incapable of hiding my fragile state. My eyes follow Thor as he walks to the other side of my cell, the slightest flicker of sympathy in his blue eyes, though it is quickly clamped down so he can keep up the appearance of the stern heir, my stoic captor. It might have made me laugh at another time, but all my thoughts are for Mother and I remember the guard said it was Thor who ordered the news to be conveyed to me. Odin would have just let me rot, the lack of visits, even if they were just illusions, eventually giving way to the thought that I had lost even Frigga's favor. He would have cultivated further madness in doing so, but Thor...Thor at least still cares, even if he tries to pretend he does not.  
  
"Did she suffer?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, my face softening in my moment of weakness. But any thought of compassion, of understanding, from my brother is wiped away with his next words.  
  
"I do not come here to share in our grief." Well that was just a dagger to the heart, now wasn't it? Perhaps I have misread him. "Instead I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament."  
  
The wheels are turning in my mind and I regard him with a gaze sharpened by curiosity and suspicion. "Go on."  
  
Gone is the foolish, cocksure youth I knew just a few years ago. Instead Thor stands in front of me in a most kingly manner and I feel a pang of jealousy at that thought. Of course he would look the part of a king. He is not the secret Jotun prince, dark and reviled, earning attention only through tricks and manipulation. The golden son, always destined for the throne even if we had both been fed the lie that would rule. I should have known it could not be possible for both of us to have the throne. Yet somehow I had convinced myself that perhaps it was possible, even if Thor was clearly favored over me. I am so good at lying I even deceive myself.  
  
"I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. You help me escape Asgard and I will grant it to you, vengeance. And afterwards, this cell."  
  
Escape. My brain latches onto the word like a man dying of thirst takes that first greedy swig of water. But then the rest catches up and I realize he only offers temporary asylum. Once I have helped him to accomplish his ends, I will be put back here to resume my decay. He is using me. The knowledge writhes beneath my skin and brings a hot flash of rage to my thoughts, but then I am slightly impressed by Thor's manipulation. So many people heeding me now that I have shown my power. It seems my attention-seeking mission has worked, though I would never admit my goal was truly to get the notice of Odin and Thor in my failed takeover of Midgard. My lips crack open in a smile and the slow laughter begins to disturb my shoulders.  
  
My head shakes in derision and my tone again turns mocking. "You must be truly desperate to come to me for help." I'm reminded of another time I said similar words, referring to the beast's inclusion in the Avengers. Monster. Well, if the shoe fits. "What makes you think you can trust me?" The idea of vengeance is thrilling and has my blood racing with renewed vigor. If I can't turn back time to protect Frigga, I will avenge her. Oh, another quote from my conquest, the bearded face of Tony Stark turned taunting in my thoughts. Some days my swift mind is a blessing, other days it is a curse.  
  
"I don't," Thor says and I am a little surprised. The brainless oaf has always been too gullible, giving his trust to any who pretend to earn it. "Mother did. You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with the glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere. That hope no longer exists to protect you. You betray me and I will kill you." Oh it is almost heartening to see that my weak-minded brother has finally learned what I've been trying to tell him for years. Take nothing I say, nothing I do, at face value. At first those things were benign, but after the incident at his coronation and his subsequent banishment, my tricks have turned into assination attempts and efforts at world domination. I've graduated.  
  
I smile at my brother, older in years but far younger in maturity and his knowledge of the world. "When do we start?"


End file.
